Motorcycles can go a long way on a tank of fuel. This becomes even truer when you consider the short trips we would generally take. When I finally needed to refuel, I went to the most sensible place one could imagine, to the gas station, the only one I could find, in fact. Except that it wasn’t much of a gas station. True, there were pumps, but they didn’t appear to work. As I pulled up, I mentioned to the fellow leaning against the pump that I needed some fuel. He disappeared into a small building at the back of the lot and came out with a one-liter water bottle filled with what appeared to be Tang. He unscrewed my gas cap, and started pouring the contents of this mystical mixture into my tank. “This is the good stuff. Jet†he said.
I’m not sure that I needed any jet-like speed, as going slow and steady seemed a good course of action on the roads of India, but I know I will never look at Tang the same way again. The bottle cost roughly two dollars, which would seem expensive had I not known it would probably last us the remainder of our stay in India.
Indeed, we were winding down our journey in many ways. My course was finished, and I was the proud bearer of a certificate in Ayurvedic study, which was really only a rudimentary introduction to a study that takes nearly a decade for Ayurvedic doctors to complete. Still, I had gained a deeper insight into myself and my family through my studies, and hoped to apply my newfound knowledge in some form upon our return to Canada. We still weren’t sure what the future would hold for us, but felt a renewed sense of optimism about what was to come, and had rekindled the spark of our relationship. Whatever happened, none of us would be the same.